Mike [White] and I camped among the mullock heaps and apart from a couple of excursions to see what else was around the district and a trip to the hot springs to remove a little opal laden dust, we painted for four days within walking distance of camp. "Camp" was a very mobile set-up; two vans, two chairs and a cooking fire.

After several paintings I began to notice a trend in the skies I was painting. They all seemed very "ochrey" down low and more red than usual higher up in the sky. This, I presumed, was reflected light in the atmosphere, anyway it was marvellous for...

The initial wash:

On a painting trip to Crudine, out Mudgee way, in about 1981, I was set up in a paddock about ten metres from James Wynne. [It was considered bad manners to paint "over the shoulder" of another painter]. James must have taken pity on me, scratching around, trying to get started. He called me over and showed me how he laid in his picture in simple washes. Paint thinned with pure turps, no lines, just laying in big masses allowed him to see the picture as a whole rather than a series of individual objects. In four of five minutes, the composition was roughed in, the tones were established and most of the white canvas covered. This was a revelation to me.

In using this method it is not essential to get the tone or colour exactly right first up, in fact it is unlikely that you can. I have found that trying to establish the final colour and tone against a white canvas is extremely difficult. That's one of the benefits of the wash. You can very accurately make judgements about tone and colour beside and over a good wash. Another benefit is there's less need to scrub the canvas to cover it, particularly a coarse-toothed or textured canvas. This allows for fresher brushwork.

Until James showed me this method, I would carefully draw the objects and compose the subject, then perhaps wash in some main areas. This is a more rigid method and it's more difficult to make changes as the painting proceeds. Also it caused me to do a lot of time-consuming cutting in around unimportant objects, which is not conducive to painting fleeting effects of light.

I now use a variety of techniques depending on the situation, but the overall wash is my standard method. I don't know if James uses this technique regularly, occasionally or at all these days. For me that impromptu five minute lesson broke through a barrier that has helped my work in many ways to this day.

I've painted with Moriarty on and off for over 20 years and I still can't talk him into going painting outback. He said something about flying over it many times when he was a pilot and couldn't see much to paint there. I'm sure there must be more to it than an assessment at a thousand feet doing 200 knots!

Now I don't want to sound sermonesque, but I believe too often painters go chasing that elusive pre-conceived idea of what makes suitable subject material.

Trying to find subjects to match what's in your mind can restrict you immensely, both in terms of subject and your psychological state. By that I mean the longer you try to find that elusive subject the harder it gets to see it, and you end up becoming upset, uptight and "not in the mood" it goes without saying...

It's helpful to reflect at this time on what and why familiar things are taking my attention. I notice special little nuances I'd normally take for granted and this adds to my understanding of what gives a particular location its sense of place.

When it comes to subject material for a painting, the contrast that makes the sense of place can be used to advantage. For example, my favourite landscape is the dry minimal country of the outback, where you have to...

To compound the difficulties, if I was ever going to paint anything really worthwhile, I must paint what was best for my work, not bank balance. Painting "pot-boilers" and "chocolate box" pictures might make a few easy sales but would do me more harm than good in the long run. My belief in myself [Not to mention my naivety], after many years of struggle, has carried the day so far.

It was hardest in the early years, particularly on Wendy who had to worry for both of us because, selfishly I had to stay focussed on my painting. There were times when I would have to ring around all the galleries to see if I had any sales and would drive into the city to pick up a $40 or $50 cheque so we could buy our groceries!

Twenty years later I'm standing in my studio looking south to the Wild Dog Ranges in the distance behind Mt Sandy and Marsdens Rock. Below me on steep slopes, alpacas graze unaware of the exotic image they create...